( a tumultuous and tense end to a conversation they... may or may not have been better off never having at all. it certainly doesn't feel like it's bridged any gaps in understanding. clarke doesn't watch rita walking away with any flicker of hope for camaraderie, and imagines rita managed to come out of this more heated and bitter than before — if that half-raised hand, intent on doing some sort of harm, was any indication.
the door to the diner jingles upon exit, and it's only then clarke resumes her seat. but attention returned to the milkshake and fries in front of her, any trace of an appetite has died. dunking salty potato wedges into melting ice cream doesn't hold the same sort of spiteful delight with no one around to be disgusted by it either, and she'll ultimately pushed the glass and basket over the tabletop to join rita's abandoned drink. and just sort of... fold her arms, put her head down on top of them, and breathe. )
no subject
the door to the diner jingles upon exit, and it's only then clarke resumes her seat. but attention returned to the milkshake and fries in front of her, any trace of an appetite has died. dunking salty potato wedges into melting ice cream doesn't hold the same sort of spiteful delight with no one around to be disgusted by it either, and she'll ultimately pushed the glass and basket over the tabletop to join rita's abandoned drink. and just sort of... fold her arms, put her head down on top of them, and breathe. )